Like Cracked Steel
Hey ya'll,
Happy pride month! Sorry for the delay—I work two jobs as well as school, so, you know.
See you on the other side.
O.K.
Seven
Esme and Jasper sat on either side of Alice. Her small eyes reflected the concerned light within Esme's gaze. Jasper had shut the shop early, shutting the blinds and flicking on the rest of the flickering iridescent lamps that lined the ceiling even though it was still plenty bright outside.
The closed-in, shut shop should have scared her. The two people who seemed to arch and curl over her cross-legged figured should have terrified her. Two arching buildings ready to collapse onto her, bury her in the rubble of their words as their mouths blast holes in the soft landscaping of her soul.
But she was calm. As long as the woman, as long as Esme laid her hand on her, Alice was able to sink into the ease of a quiet mind. This was better than any drug, the soft ecstasy of ease that drifted up her bones and pillowed her mind. For the first time in so, so long, Alice was at ease. The terrifying arches that both Jasper and Esme, that any person so usually made, became support beams.
It was thanks to this enveloping sense of safety that Alice, with Esme's hand on her leg, was able to spill her story onto the battered shop counter. She watched the words as they fell in front of her, unable to look at either Esme or Jasper as she built the fractured picture of her and Bella's childhood.
The foster homes, the foster parents who either cared too little or much, too much in all the wrong ways—all the wrong places. James and his blond hair, his promises of protection that wrapped Alice's fingers. She had known he was bad news, but the voices and echoes that ate away at her brain pushed her toward him. She convinced herself it had been the best decision for Bella, ultimately, but in truth, it had been the pitted descent his pills and powders promised.
She had never even enjoyed the bliss they supplied—the joy so many others found themselves in deep love with.
No, that was a lie.
It hurt to admit, but she couldn't help herself as she spilled outward: "I did enjoy them, I, I want some more, honestly, but I don't—does that even make sense? I just need to find Bella."
Shame swallowed her cheeks and chest as she turned from Jasper. She didn't need to see his gaze to feel his disapproval.
She wasn't broken, though. She had survived, and she would continue to do so with or without them—she just needed to find Bella. To hell with his approval, what had he faced anyway? He had no clue what it was like to live in an ocean of voices and visions not his own.
"I'll kill him."
Alice turned to look at Jasper evenly, his grey eyes had become storm clouds as he looked down fiercely. Alice realized he was staring at her trembling hands and she clasped them.
"I'm not scared, it's just the withdrawal." She felt the need to justify her shaking, and somehow withdrawal was less embarrassing than fear.
"He got you hooked on that shit, I'll fucking kill him. Taking advantage of people like that, fucking scumbag."
"I can take care of myself," Alice snapped. Esme's hand squeezed her leg softly and Alice relaxed her shoulders, which had tensed as she watched Jasper's fury build.
"Death and violence will solve nothing. We will call the proper authorities—"Esme quickly added as she saw Alice's mouth jerk open, cutting her off before she could protest—"If and when it becomes necessary. As of now, we should focus on Bella and make sure you're safe, Alice."
Esme grasped both of Alice's hands in her own. The smell of soft lilacs and fresh soil swallowed the shop as she smiled gently, the lines and wrinkles along Esme's eyes and lips smoothing into her golden skin.
"Alice, you've faced immense struggle but please understand, you are not at fault. The powers meant to help you have failed you. You will not have to be alone again."
Despite her soft, relaxed state, the words still triggered a buried, cynical anger within Alice. "I wasn't alone, Bella and I were never alone. I don't need a future; I don't care about any of the shitheads that were supposed to be here—I don't need anything but her."
Jasper reached out a hand to place on her shoulder, but she shrugged him away. She didn't want pity or practiced lines from some ABC drama—she wanted solutions. She wanted her sister.
He was too kind anyway. Too sweet for her, too similar to her innocent sister. He was capable, but he was good, and she needed to protect him from the dark swirl of chaos that seemed to swim in her footsteps.
As if he sensed her line of thinking, Jasper spun in his own chair to face her, angling his body onto the counter with his arm splayed out in front of her. Helplessly, her eyes trailed up to the bicep that peeked from the sleeve of his shirt.
"Alice, I know you won't believe me—I wouldn't, after all that—but, I've got your back."
It was an innocent phrase that made her think of children playing knights and dragons in a yard somewhere. 'I've got your back.' What would that have been like?
But here he was, eyes so honest and genuine in his intent that she nearly believed him.
Then the cop pounded on the door.
"Hello? Anyone in there?" A fist hammered at the metal frame of the glass door. The shutters shivered along with Alice's spine. She jerked away from Esme's hand and gasped, standing stock-still with her arms stiff against the counter.
"Hello?! Police—open up!"
"You called the cops?!" Alice hissed. She whipped around the glare at Jasper, who had stood up beside her, his hands palms up in front of him—"I didn't—I swear."
"Shit." Where was an exit? "Backdoor?"
"Stockroom," he answered without hesitation, shaken by her sudden directness. He probably expected her to blow up on him, but she didn't have time to be angry.
"Alice," Esme stood and attempted to grab her arm, but Alice was gone. She had dodged out from behind the counter as the bashing continued. She tried not to think too much about the cracks that had shaken her heart with each knock on the door. She had never trusted Jasper, she told herself, this wasn't shocking. His kindness, Esme's kindness meant nothing; no one was genuine. It was just her and Bella.
She needed to find Bella.
The door creaked with disuse as she rammed her shoulder into the lever, stumbling into the back alley and into the dank air. Garbage and rotting substances that had long-ago lost any distinguishable shape mushed under her feet as she sprinted from the store.
The moment she stepped outside the voices and spears of images assaulted her with more fury than ever before—angry in their neglect. Images of Bella screaming as flames bit her cheeks and eyes filled Alice's vision. The smell of burning flesh filled her nose.
She's lost because of you. You need to find James, find him and stay calm—you need help to stay calm, you need something to keep stable…
Alice choked.
The world burst into an explosive stop as the voice was silenced by a brick wall. Alice reared back, her hands cupping her bleeding nose. She had been so entrenched in the flurry of emotions and visions that she had slammed straight into the side of a building.
"Alice!"
She turned, barely making out Jasper's figure as he ran toward her. Sweat peeked out from under his arms despite the cold. Was it from nerves, or had he really had to push himself to keep up with her?
Had she made it far at all? She could still see the store in the distance, sans cop. Had he followed her too?
"Stay back!" Alice shouted, blood slipping into her mouth. She resisted the urge to spit.
"Are you okay? Fuck, is that from you? Alice please, I didn't call the cops—" Jasper rushed toward her and she jerked back. She could see the massive bloodstain she had left on the brick, quickly fading into the red stone.
"Miss?"
They both turned. A woman, a housewife maybe, stood with her keys clutched in her hand like Wolverine. Her eyes darted back and forth between Alice and Jasper, no doubt coming to seemingly obvious conclusions.
"Please," Alice stepped forward and coughed, pulling down her hands to reveal her face in all its gory glory, "please, help me, I have to get out of here—"
"The car is unlocked," the woman answered without hesitation. Despite her recent interactions, Alice immediately decided she liked this woman.
"Alice," Jasper lurched forward, palms up in an attempt to dissuade her. "Please, don't do this, we can figure this out."
"Leave her the hell alone, asshole," the woman snapped. She sounded like a mom.
Get in the car, a voice murmured in Alice's mind. It was a melody compared to the harsh drumbeats of the other mental intrusions swelling her brain.
As if she needed any more encouragement.
The car door swung open and she slipped into the soft seating, cupping her nose to keep the blood from spilling onto the interior. Still, her hand left a horrifying red print on the door handle as she slammed it shut.
The woman slipped into the driver's seat, quickly jamming the keys into the ignition and starting the car before she had even shut the door.
"Buckle up, hun." The car roared to life, jerking forward as they swerved into traffic. A car laid on their horn as they cut them off.
Alice caught a glimpse of Jasper in the rearview mirror, his chest heaving as he rand a hand through his deflated hair.
A massive, mountain of a man jogged up to meet him just as they pulled out into traffic. Alice couldn't see the badge on his chest, but she knew that he was the cop who had been shaking the store with his knocks.
She pulled her eyes away and sobbed, once, as the pain spreading through her face brought unwanted tears to her eyes.
"Oh, honey, here." The woman—who Alice had decided to trust for now, if for no other reason than the random, serendipitous nature of her appearance—reached over to pull open the glove box and retrieve a collection of Kleenex.
Alice stuffed them up and around her nose, shutting her eyes to the pain and the voices. If she had been calm, if she had been able to focus around the pain, she might have noticed the soft, triumphant look in her rescuer's eyes.
She might have heard the locks click as they slowly pushed through traffic.
"Will you really let her go so easily?"
"Shh, don't wake her."
Hecate sat carefully across from Hades, where he sat carefully on the long bench. Bella's heels pressed into his thigh as she lay stretched across the bench. She had fallen into a deep sleep after only an hour or so of light dozing and had slumped awkwardly to the side in the process. Exhausted, she slept through the awkward angling of her neck. Hades, less tolerant of watching the vision of his lost wife in a position that would no-doubt cause her pain when she awoke, eventually called for Hecate to bring a cushion for her head.
He had helped ease her onto the bench, relishing the feel of his hands on her small shoulders but reluctant to push it any further. He didn't want to move her more than absolutely necessary, not now that she had finally showed an openness—or at least, neutral acceptance—toward his presence. He doubted she would react well to his picking her up and moving her to a foreign couch or bed.
"You offered freedom," Hecate continued. It was doubtful that an explosion could wake the slightly snoring girl beside Hades, but he had tried to encourage Hecate into silence anyway. He wasn't even sure why he tried, he knew Hecate was smarter than that.
"And she'll have it, should she ask for it."
"She will." Hecate stared at him intently. "Will you give it, though?"
"If you're asking whether I'll let her go again then no, I won't. I'll always be there, I will forever live in her footsteps now that I have found her path—but she won't see me. She can live a human life, and I will wait in the periphery." He was at ease with this. So long as he could watch her, protect her… In truth, this fiery girl was so different than the wife he had known, curious and sharp instead of gleeful and vain, he often felt the compulsion to step away and watch her from afar until he could make sense of it all.
"So you lied."
He met Hecate's gaze sharply, glaring. "I did not. I just said I would let her leave, should she wish it."
"You just said you would watch her like an animal to be studied, you would never let her live freely," Hecate reasoned.
Hades looked down, his fingers curling around Bella's ankle as her face twisted in response to some especially powerful dream.
"I'm trying," he said slowly.
"You're improving," Hecate assured him, her voice softening. "But you will lose her if you refuse to be honest. First to her, then to yourself."
"Looks like someone's getting cozy." A smug voiced echoed off the walls of the garden. Bella's face twisted further in her sleep, brows furrowing as Hades looked up sharply and hissed an shh at the looming figure in the doorway.
"At ease, captain," Morpheus joked, sauntering into the garden, "I'm the god of dreams—you really think I would wake up our little treasure? Look at how peaceful she is, she's as happy as a kitten in the dreams I sent her. Waking her up would be a tragedy, it would be ruining a pure masterpiece."
"How humble," Hecate mused.
Despite the low frustration that always arrived alongside Morpheus filling Hades's lungs, he bobbed his head. "Thank you. She needed to rest but I wasn't sure how to calm her."
"Think I couldn't tell? Kiddo was practically a live wire when she showed up on my doorstep." Morpheus slumped to the floor in front of Bella, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Hades glared down at him, his lips pursed tightly as his hand tightened on Bella's ankle.
"Down boy," Morpheus smirked. "Maybe if you weren't such an ass she wouldn't be so distant."
Hades didn't try to deny the jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. Morpheus and Persephone had always had a unique relationship, and he had always suspected they shared an enjoyment of his irritation toward their flirting and coy joking. Though, he had understood Persephone's wild nature—as well as her loyalty, despite her seemingly flippant personality. To try and control his wife would be the death of them and he felt guilty enough for keeping her underground with him.
But this woman, Bella, didn't show the same easy traits his wife had—her nature was more careful, more precise, and so her immediate trust in Morpheus irritated him. The ease with which Morpheus was able to touch her, seemingly unburdened by past memories and hesitations, bothered him even more.
"We were discussing Hades's offer of freedom." Hecate crossed one pale leg over the other.
"Were you." Morpheus sat back, arms bent and hands on his knees as he studied Bella's face thoughtfully. "Well, you'll be interested to hear Emmet's news, then."
"He found her sister?" Hades sat forward. "Where? Was she…alone?"
"He found her," Morpheus nodded. "He found mommy-dearest, too."
"Demeter found her?"
"You didn't really expect to hide this from her, did you?"
"I had hoped, for at least a time." Hades let out his breath in a long gust, running a hand through his tangled curls. "For a time."
"A time for you is forever for anyone else." Hecate smiled ruefully.
"Maybe we can go with her," Morpheus smiled. "Run some interference. It's been a while since we took a trip above, you haven't even experienced the glories of the internet."
Hades frowned. The last thing he wanted was to involve Demeter. Their constant war over Persephone's company had only just ended before she had disappeared, and now it had all the potential to begin again. He doubted Demeter would be courteous enough to not use Bella's current lack of memory of her past life against him.
A manufactured breeze blew past him, rustling the vine leaves.
The entire situation left a sour taste in his mouth. He only wanted to whisk Bella away, awaken her memories somehow and lay with her in what had once been their shared bed—burrowed under the covers and warm in their reunion.
He hadn't pictured making a trip in order to appease the girl who currently despised him, alongside the titan who judged him and the fellow god who mocked him.
"What was the girl's name again?" Hades rubbed his face, pinching the bridge between his nose tightly.
"Alice?"
All three immortal heads turned to the soft, sleep-sore voice of the girl on the bench. Her cheeks were flushed, a line imprinted from her lips to the corner of her eyes from a wrinkle in the cushion. She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at the three faces around her. "Are you talking about Alice?" she asked again, a bit more desperately.
"Yes, beautiful girl." Morpheus grinned. "Welcome to the world of the living—or, rather, the awakened."
Hecate glanced at Hades and smiled.
Hades sighed, the loss of the warm pressure of Bella's heels against his thigh biting into his bitter heart.
He wondered whether they would ever share a peaceful moment again.
Thoughts?
Thanks to all who have reviewed, read, favorited, and followed. You're my heroes.
This story is all planned out, with a direct line ahead to the end—so don't despair, it will be finished. Still, I would love to hear your thoughts.
I don't think I'll ever get tired of Morpheus. He's so easy to write compared to Hades, it's almost a relief when I reach his lines.
Much love,
O.K.